


The Man.

by Robert_Brookes42



Category: Original Work
Genre: Death, Mystery, Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-18 20:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16523663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robert_Brookes42/pseuds/Robert_Brookes42
Summary: A little mystery short story. Like so short you don't really need a summary for it.





	The Man.

Tuesday morning. August 12th. The weather was in an annoying state of bright and sunny, but too cold to enjoy it. Out of the back of the old Church St Clements a small group of people were walking, all dressed in the traditional black funeral wear, and taking seats by an open grave.

The service had been too short for some of the people, too long for others. The aging priest with glasses as thick as bullet proof windows had retained his calm, sympathetic voice throughout it all. From the start saying: “Our first hymn will be number Seven-Three-One: How Great Thou Art.” And ending with: “And now, let us process outwards to lay his body to rest.” Naturally a few people made their way out the front instead, most with young children, who couldn’t possibly handle the sight of a wooden box being put into to a hole in the ground.

A light wind had started as the procession made their way to the grave. An old woman helped by a young black man began a bout of coughing and shivering. A man in desperate need of a shave jostled past the crowd to find a seat. And after about ten minutes they had all settled, and the casket was ready to be buried.  
The long dark burgundy box was carried to and laid atop the shining silver frame by the pallbearers; seven men and one woman. Each one knew the dead man. They’d all at some point: laughed, shouted, cried and cheered with the man. The largest of them was his brother, an overweight and bleary-eyed man who had delivered a eulogy thirty minutes prior. The woman was the man’s wife. She looked almost like a ghost, with her long black hair that showed flecks of grey, and her face glistening in tears. Other pallbearers were friends of the man, some from university, some from college, two even from secondary school.

But none of them knew how he had really died.

As the casket began its slow descent to the ground the Priest began to speak: “And now as his body returns to the Earth, we know that he will rest forever.” Many tissues and handkerchiefs had started to appear: dabbing at tears or wiping noses. The casket had finally reached the ground with an almost silent thud. And as the black cloth surrounding the pulley was carried off to the side, the gravestone was revealed. A garish white stone heart, with looped calligraphy emblazoned on it shone brightly against the sea of black.  
The words inscribed were hard to make out, what with the font being so ludicrous. The name at the top and then a meaningless list that didn’t truly signify anything distinctive: Son, Husband, Father and a Good Man loved by all those who knew him.

The first flurry of soil began to coat the lid of the casket. A hollow cry rang out of the seated crowd, followed by a few sobs. Many tears fell, many voices cried. All for a man, who, from their knowledge, died of a heart attack in bed at night.

All the secrets that the man had, were now buried six feet below a rock with a lie etched into it. Loved by all those who knew him. Yes, the people around the grave now settling flowers and candles loved him dearly, but they were only a fraction of the people that knew him. This small portion gathered in the early morning around the graveyard of St Clements were by no means the only people who knew him.  
They would be the ones who would mourn the death of a man, who, in their minds, was good.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment if you want, let me know what you thought of it.


End file.
